


noctuary

by truth_seeker_1789



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of subtle Bible references, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel True Forms (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Angel/Human Relationships, Castiel (Supernatural)'s True Form, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, In an alternate universe where the angels can alter their appearance, Not Beta Read, Seraph Castiel (Supernatural), Seraphim, Vague descriptions of kissing, What is this?, and too much christmas music, angel lore, angels are fucking huge, idea stolen from milton, inspired by that one tumblr post, not edited, vague descriptions are intentional, with a cuddly seraph on a couch, written at 3 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_seeker_1789/pseuds/truth_seeker_1789
Summary: He was formidable.Terrible.Magnificent.But above all, he wasbeautiful.





	noctuary

*

The terrain was barren, dark.

Scraggly shrubs had carved through the cracks in the earth, dried to decay and dust within days of their ascent.

The air was warm and arid, parching you despite the lateness of the hour.

But it was peaceful, quiet.

So far were you from any signs of civilization that the canopy of stars above remained uncorrupted by artificial light, traces of blues and violets and subtle greens shimmering ever-so-slightly across the midnight sky.

Serendipity beckoned you, a deep inhale filling your veins with contented bliss.

Your arms folded beneath your head, and you passed several tranquil moments lost in the ceaseless wonder of the heavens.

Your eyes drifted shut, ears familiarizing to the sounds of this new landscape, allowing the unfamiliar lullaby to guide you into an even deeper state of relaxation.

But then there was a shift, a shuddering rifling on the breeze.

Despite not having moved, you felt your stomach drop, hair standing on end at the sudden rush of adrenaline.

You longed to ignore it, wishing, hoping, _praying_ to have your comfort restored, but fortune seemed to have fled you.

The evening sounds fell silent, a rising pressure on the air frightening away your nocturnal companions.

You opened your eyes, glancing to the sky to determine if, perhaps, a storm was brewing.

The horizon was clear however, sprinkled only with starlight and the faintest impressions of cloud.

You reclined once more, readjusting your position on the ancient blanket, successfully ignoring the frantic energy coursing through your chest.

And then there was a shuffling sound, a ruffling like birds’ wings.

Your brows furrowed at that, the sound growing louder, as if a whole flock was swarming around you.

Above you, a cluster of agitated wings fluttering in a sphere, blazing beryl and garish golden light shining in countless sparks.

The light was searing, the sound deafening, but you were inexplicably at peace, mind calm at the sight of the colossal being hovering leagues above you.

So bright was his form that the night was forgotten, the stars you had been so languidly studying now eclipsed by the sheer brilliance of his Grace.

He was formidable.

Terrible.

Magnificent.

But above all, he was _beautiful_.

A gasp of awe, of worship, of overwhelming adoration and all-encompassing love escaped you, attracting his attention.

Wings, _wings_ , midnight gales and gentle whispers and turbulent thunder- six behemoths moving together to slowly approach you, legions of eyes tracing over you, through you, _within_ you with restless intensity, leaving each inch of you trembling in fear, trembling in anticipation.

He held back however, dozens of yards between you, stilling, hovering, waiting.

His form was so vast even from such distance, it was impossible to perceive anything of the sky, anything beyond his illustrious wings and celestial radiance and rotating halos of raw energy.

There was nothing in the cosmos that mattered to you in this moment-

Nothing save you and the Seraph, who was still patiently waiting for your acceptance, for your rejection, heads of lioness and raven and fox all watching, wings never resting, shape never losing form, light never dimming.

Electricity burned in your veins, warm trickles of blood slipping from your nostrils and ears and eyes.

But these sensations were set aside, overcome by the twitching in your fingers, by the tumultuous yearning to _touch_ , to _caress_ , to protect the very being whose appearance alone should have been enough to end- nay _obliterate_ \- you on the most intimate, microscopic level.

But he did not, _you_ did not, and that restless, desperate energy flowed between you, growing exponentially between each breath from your lungs, hair raising once more as the static in the atmosphere increased in intensity, buzzing within and without with a brutal, aching need.

Never having risen from your position, you lifted your hand, a placating motion to indicate your devotion, your desire, your _demand_.

There was a want, frantic and chaotic, resounding in your very bones to _consume_ , to _be_ consumed.

From above, from around, from below, from within-

There was another distinct shudder, stronger than the first, roaring echo carving through the canyons.

Then- a swift descent.

The enticing aroma of stardust and ozone and petrichor and thousands of other sweet and sharp scents flooded you with his approach, your soft sigh reverberating in the motion of dark feathers, a lilting ricochet on the breeze carrying across the plateau and down the ravine below.

He shifted as he neared, honeysuckle rings condensing into a singular sphere, heads joining into one, wings surrounding him entirely, folding smaller and smaller the nearer he drew.

Your awe only grew, smile only more fond as his wings retracted, faded from sight, familiar trench coat and shoes landing only several feet from you.

You had known his true form must be radiant, ethereal, beautiful in a way beyond words, though you had never expected the Commander to ever trust you with the sight, nor could you have ever hoped to imagine just how _breathtaking_ he truly was.

He healed you with the sharp sting of hail, lips fastening to your own with the violent ferocity of a tempest.

A growl like thunder, a touch that summoned liquid lightning in your veins, clouded irises tracing between your own- all served to secure your desperation, fingers clawing in sable tresses to drag him even closer.

The fury faded, replaced with the gentle brush of fingers beneath your chin, touch light as the press of maple leaves, sweetest praises falling from his lips dancing on the whispers of the desert winds.

You fell back to the dirt- sated, humbled, mystified- fingers entwining with the Celestial’s and the brush of feathers teasing you.

You studied the stars, listening to his heartbeat settle, the melody of your newfound paradise slowly resuming its serenade.

Sense replaced sensibility, securing the knowledge that the encounter, the sensations, the exchange-

You had not survived completely unscathed.

Your ears still tintinnabulated; your eyes were still haunted by kaleidoscopic phantoms of empyrean rays each time you allowed them to slip shut.

You knew you had been near death; it was miraculous you had not perished within the first glimpse of his true form.

But if this _had_ been the last sight you would have seen-

With hands capable of razing empires holding you close to his frame and ballads older than Creation whispering throughout your conscious, you allowed yourself to drift peacefully in the warm alabaster glow, surrendering with a contented sigh.

There was nowhere between Heaven and Hell where you’d rather be, safely slumbering in the soft embrace of the Seraph.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Noctuary- _English, n._ \- the record of a single night's events, thoughts, or dreams.
> 
> A true form fic that I scribbled months ago at around 3 am after listening to "Emmanuel" by Tony Anderson and staring at my Prussian flag. Had always been interested in angelic trueforms, especially Cas'. Descriptions are hard, and honestly I didn't really do much editing here. Granted, I never do much editing at all, but this one takes the cake.
> 
> Castiel's trueform is based loosely on the fanon? canon? belief that he has black wings and that he is a seraph. All details from there are borrowed from a huge collection of lore describing seraphim with six wings, multiple heads, multiple halos, multitudes of eyes- I tried not to get too specific for fear I could never do him justice.
> 
> For the heads, I tried to play a little on Cas' personality, his strengths and the symbolism he holds. A lioness for his leadership, for his courage, for his fierce bravery, for his loyalty. A fox for his curiosity, for his cleverness, for his adaptability, for his quick thinking. And a raven for his intelligence, for his strength, for his agility, for his faithfulness.
> 
> In addition, the symbolism behind each of them I feel could tie in quite well. Lions often represent strength and majesty, and in mythos can often represent some of the greatest protectors of the Earth. I can think of no other angel in the Supernatural Lore than Castiel who has more than earned this title. Foxes have often received mixed reception, with some seeing them as tricky opportunists and others seeing them as the wisest and truest of companions. Castiel has displayed both attributes, having learnt how to work with and often earn the faith of many of the species between Paradise and Perdition. Ravens, at long last, are most often regarded as a symbolism of death. And Castiel- having both unintentionally and intentionally aided, sometimes led, and even planned several mass slaughters- wears this omen like a cloak about his shoulders. With all of the blood he's shed, tied in with his multitude of resurrections- He is a bringer of Death, and one who cannot be destroyed.
> 
> I really should write some more straight Angelic!Lore. There are surely many stories I can weave together...
> 
> Anyway, I thank you for reading what were the ramblings of an insomniac, copied and pasted from a backchat with my heartsister.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Comments are love. Comments are life.


End file.
